


Chase the Night

by deicide



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: F/M, cross publishing on wattpad and fanfiction.net, im toying with the lyrics of fruit by abra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deicide/pseuds/deicide
Summary: Organizing a jewel heist is simple. Find seven criminals who can do the job well, keep them anonymous amongst one another, stake out the joint, execute and get the hell out of dodge. And whatever you do, pray none of them fall in love.





	1. Expand Your Mind

[ i . i ]

The neon sign atop Smokey Pete's bar flickered yellow and red, casting a soft glow onto the dark sidewalk. A small puddle of rainwater splashed as Eddie's Cadillac pulled carelessly into an open parking space, his tires resting on the white painted lines.

"Mr. Orange?" Freddy repeated, not accustomed to the taste of the new name on his tongue.

"Yeah." Eddie shifted the gear to park. "Daddy wants to keep names out of the picture for everyone's sake."

"Makes sense." Freddy licked his lips, containing his anxiety as Eddie slipped the key from the ignition. For the most part, he felt confident that all his practice would pay off, but part of his brain was screaming that he was going to screw it all up and get himself into a massive amount of shit. He swallowed down his nerves and stepped out of the car, trying to keep himself level.

"It does. So don't go in there usin' your real name, 'cause only me and him know all that." The wet sound of the sidewalk clicked faintly under their feet.

"Alright," Freddy murmured almost silently as Eddie led him into the dark bar. He exhaled nervously and straightened his back. _Cool, Freddy. Everything's cool._

Focusing on the music playing overhead rather than his racing thoughts, his eyes darted around the bar, searching for the senior Cabot.

"Over here," Eddie called, turning his head back slightly as he approached a table drenched in red light. Around the edge sat two men, one middle-aged and handsome, one heavy-set and bald-- the latter of which Freddy quickly assumed to be Joe. Both men sat listening intently but skeptically to an animated young woman rambling on about something he couldn't hear. She faced away from him, giving only a view of her long, honey-colored hair.

"...And like, we cant prove there's life on the moon _yet_...but you can't disprove it either, you know what I'm saying? Which is why NASA is keeping that shit from us."

The brunette man furrowed his brow. "What does that have to do with--"

"I'm gettin' to it." She held up a finger and the man chuckled. "Anyways, pretty much all we know is that we have been to the moon and we as human beings have been on basically a different planet." Freddy circled around the table, leaning close--but not too close--to the younger of the two men, getting a full glimpse of the girl. She was cuter than he'd expected. Not mind-blowing in terms of sex appeal, but still cute enough to have his full attention. Her amber eyes flickered to him for a splinter of a second before darting back to the others as she continued her tireless rant. "So you're tellin' me we went to the fuckin' moon but you don't-- you can't cure _cancer_? You're tellin' me we've come _that far_ in technology and you still haven't cured _motherfucking cancer? Li-ar_."

She paused to take a swig of wine. Eddie pulled out a barstool next to his father. "The fuck is she on about now?"

The brunette man laughed as he turned to Eddie. "She thinks the government is withholding the cure for cancer."

The girl swallowed, nearly choking over her words. "They _are_! Like, the money they make off chemotherapy and radiation and shit? Our country is just so in debt that if they gave us the cure _now_ our corrupt government would have to give all that money _back_ to these families who've been paying for it."

"So basically what you're saying," Freddy decided to jump in headfirst, smirking as he did. Eddie gave him a brief look of warning not to egg her on, but he promptly ignored it and combed his fingers through his hair. "Is that _corporations_ are keeping the cure from everyday people so they can keep making money off medical care?"

She looked him dead in the eyes, the profoundness of his statement still resonating with her. " _Exactly_."

 _Fuck, she looked even prettier now._ Freddy almost shivered.

"I'll give it to her, it's not that hard to believe," he laughed, slipping a cigarette from his jacket pocket.

The girl pointed herself at him slightly, knowing he was probably the only one actually listening. "Yeah! And that's what I'm saying, like-- fuck a doctor and fuck the welfare-care system or whatever because our country's _dumb_. You know why?" He raised an eyebrow, lighting his cigarette. "How? _How_? Tell me _how_ all these colleges are getting tuition money, years after years with these billions of dollars that they're accumulating, but our country's still in _debt_? Bull. Shit. It's a fuckin' _hoax_ , dude."

Freddy chuckled, smoke billowing out of his mouth. The three other men around the table stared at her in a heavy silence, exhausted.

"Should I put her in the corner?" Eddie sighed.

"What did I do?!" she nearly shrieked, offended. The two older men shared a laugh and sipped at their drinks.

Eddie leaned in, smirking wildly. "You're fuckin' insane. You're like an escaped mental patient who just stumbled in here by accident."

"You just haven't expanded your mind enough to the truth," she gestured, half-joking. She laughed and finished off the last of her wine.

"The _truth_ is that you smoked one too many bowls before you got here," the brunette man retorted.

Eddie cackled. "Ain't it."

"Oh, it was a blunt, honey," she corrected matter-of-factly.

"Oh, apologies. It was a blunt," Eddie sneered, mocking her quietly as he rolled his eyes. "Big fuckin' difference."

"You know what, Eddie?" She leaned across the table ferociously and slammed her fist down in front of him. "You just made me take the nuclear fucking option. You Cabbage Patch lookin' Big Bird ass virgin." Eddie swiped a hand out to bat her arm but she jumped back. " _Virgin_!"

Eddie jumped from his seat and charged at her, chasing her in a circle around the table as she giggled. He grabbed her playfully, putting her in a headlock and making her squeal like a child. Freddy watched, smiling, but feeling a hint of jealousy burn in his chest. Not that he felt he had to be with her in particular-- just wishing he had someone he could make laugh like that. And it wouldn't hurt if it was someone that beautiful.

"That's _enough_ ," Joe snapped. Eddie let the girl go after jutting an elbow into her side. "Christ, you two embarrass me. Now, if I could get to the _point_ of this whole god damn thing, that'd be nice. Mr. Orange," he called; Freddy immediately snapped back into character. "Meet Mr. White," the other man smiled, "and Miss Red." She tilted her head and fluttered her eyelashes dramatically. He felt his heart stop. "They're already a part of this job, so if you want in, you might want to start getting used to 'em."

"She might take a bit more getting used to than myself," Mr. White chuckled, tipping back his glass of whiskey.

She simply blinked, smirking and leaning back from the edge of the table. "Don't flatter yourself."

Freddy laughed and took a drag off his cigarette. The group was quiet for a moment, the music in the bar finally reaching their table. Red turned to him expectantly.

"So, Mr. Orange," she purred, her energy a bit expended and her eyes half open. "Got anything on your mind?"

He looked up as if in deep thought, ash from his cigarette drifting onto the tabletop. _This is your moment, Freddy. This is your cue._

"Well...any of you remember the drought in '86?"

[ i . ii ]

The sky had cleared, letting the stars peer through and brighten up the shadowy parking lot. Cars whirred past the bar, buzzing like static. Freddy stood leaned against the brick wall of the building.

"And that's what I told the guy, I said, 'You can't argue with crazy. Just let her keep the fuckin' umbrella.' And he did."

Eddie and Red busted into laughter, the girl pressing her back against the wall casually to stand next to Freddy.

"The fuckin' umbrella," she giggled shaking her head.  
Joe's voice interrupted her from a few feet away.

"Eddie, I need to talk to you."

"Eh, give me just a sec," he responded, his laughter slowing.

"No, Eddie." Joe's expression remained unchanged. "Now."

Eddie sighed, the smile dropping from his face as he stomped over to his father. This left Freddy alone with Red, who stared at the ground, biting her lip. She turned to look at him awkwardly.

"So."

"So," he echoed, smirking. He dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his foot.

"You drive here?"

"Nah, Eddie picked me up."

"Oh," she paused and looked away contemplatively. "Do you want me to drive you home?"

He smiled. "Yeah, that'd be cool. Thanks."

She tucked her hair behind her ear and stared at him. His green eyes caught her gaze for a second and she inhaled.

"Um--"

"Ey," Eddie called from behind her, pulling him from the trance. "Daddy says you're in. You ready to roll out?"

Freddy's eyes almost widened at the fact that he'd actually made it. He'd somehow convinced the head of Los Angeles county organized crime that he was a worthy criminal.

"I--"

"I told him I'd give him a ride," Red interjected. Eddie raised his eyebrows. "You go ahead and go home, Ed."

"Oh, you did?" he marveled, receiving an adamant nod from the girl. "Alright then, Mr. Orange. Better not be fuckin' around with the future Mrs. Cabot."

"Shut _up_ ," she scoffed, rolling her eyes so far they practically disappeared into her head. Freddy grinned and held his hands up defensively.

"Hey. Hands to myself, man."

She gave him a feigned scornful look and Eddie two-finger saluted them as he began to walk away.

"See you around, Eddie," Red called, chuckling.

He turned his head back after a few more steps, standing at the driver's side door of his car. "I'm serious," he shouted, gesturing at the shorter man. "I'm watchin' you."

Freddy laughed, turning to face the young woman as Eddie started up his car. Her features still looked soft under the harsh light flickering in and out from the street lamps. The color of her eyes looked brighter and more golden; he couldn't help but be drawn to them.

"Wanna go now?" she offered, swirling her car keys in her hand. He nodded and followed after her as she sauntered quietly across the parking lot. She unlocked the doors of her white Buick and Freddy pulled open the passenger-side door, revealing a brilliant red interior that almost glowed under the streetlights.

She had the key in the ignition before he even had the door shut. Freddy stared, impressed by the brightly colored steering wheel and floorboards.

"You really are Miss Red, huh?"

"Do you have any weed?" she blurted, turning to face him as she started up the car.

For a second he felt completely led on, having had his hopes up that this girl was interested-- but he wasn't surprised. They hadn't been talking long enough to know much of anything about each other; he supposed he'd read the signals wrong. He should've figured it out when she offered him a ride in the first place.

He tried not to let his tone show his disappointment. "Uh-- not on me. Sorry."

Her hand hovered above the gear shift. She looked in her rearview mirror as she prepared to back out. "It's cool," she chirped, looking over her shoulder as the car rolled out of her parking spot. "I do."

Freddy's heart skipped a beat for various reasons. Pleasantly surprised, his eyes flickered to hers and she grinned. "Wanna hotbox?"


	2. Switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imma be honest i wrote half of this high as fuck so it could make absolutely no sense but u know what? adds to the story. thanks weed

[ ii . i ]

"So where exactly are we?" Freddy asked curiously, looking out the passenger side window. They had been driving for nearly an hour, finally escaping the clamor of the city as they reached the quiet winding road.

"Lake Piru," she responded, her eyes searching as far as her headlights could illuminate.

"Oh." Freddy turned his head to look out of her window, seeing the black lake water a few yards out below the road. "It's nice."

"Right?" Red looked at him and smiled before craning her head back to the light. "It's worth the drive."

He followed her line of sight into the dirt road. "Where are we headed?"

She squinted. Her eyes looked brown from inside the dark car but caught a flash of light, glinting their golden color as the took a sharp turn. "I'm trying to find more trees."

Freddy nodded and shifted in the passenger seat. Still keeping up his bad-boy act, he propped his arm out of the open window and let the passing wind rustle his hair.

Red found a small, flat clearing a few feet off the road shrouded by tall cedar trees. As she slowed to park between a couple of bushes, Freddy looked over the hood of the car, finding the edge of the lake was just below a small drop a few feet ahead of them. The dark water rippled, sparkling under the white glow of the moon.

Red shut off her headlights, leaving the two illuminated only by the dim overhead bulb in the roof of her car. Her long lashes cast a feathery shadow  on her cheeks as her eyes met his patiently.

"So what's your real name?" She popped the question nonchalantly, unzipping her yellow jacket and squirming her way out of the sleeves.

Freddy raised his eyebrows, wondering if this was a test. "I thought we weren't--"

"It's fine," she dismissed and threw her jacket behind her seat. "I'm Sandy."

In the split second that passed, Freddy's mind raced with a million different thoughts. The likelihood of it not even being her real name were high, but part of him trusted her for some odd reason. The innocence in her smile forced him to surrender.

"Freddy."

He had thought if he'd let his name slip to anyone, he'd instantly regret it. He thought he'd feel some twist of a knife in his gut and beat himself up about it for being stupid. But he felt, dare he say it, relieved. The air in the car felt clearer. The few seconds of silence that ensued weren't uncomfortable; he almost felt electric. His green eyes flickered to her mouth. In a very quick but fluid movement, Sandy leaned over the console and Freddy took a soft breath in preparation to feel her lips on his.

Instead, he received a cold breeze to his ear from outside. Her hand was gripping the edge of the red leather seat between his knees, weary not to get too touchy. She reached her arm under it and yanked out a crumpled paper bag. He exhaled, feeling that same disappointment from earlier in the evening, only this time it was followed by a little less rejection and a little more desire. Still, he bit his lip and rolled up the window.

"So Freddy," she chirped, the brown bag crinkling as she dug her hand into it. "You like blueberry?"

"Wh--yeah." Freddy wasn't stupid, nor was he naïve. He knew better than to live half his life undercover without knowing basic information on drugs, namely weed. Not that he didn't have any experience with it under his belt-- he'd given it a try or two in college and never really got into it. He supposed if he'd never tried it in the past, this would have been the point where he'd be fucked.

Sandy slipped out a small box of rolling papers and set them out on the console before pulling out a dime bag of pot and thrusting it under his nose.

"That's nice," he lied, taking a closer look at the orange threads.

She took the bag back, smelling it as she pulled a strawberry-printed paper from the box. "Like Fruit Loops."

Sandy rolled the paper in her fingers and started to pack in the weed, tucking her long hair behind her ear. Freddy watched her work intently, still keeping his act straight.

"Who do you buy from?"

"My friend," she responded, her voice shallow as not to blow away any flakes. "He sells for Luciano."

Freddy tried not to choke on his own saliva. It was a name all too familiar to him. Luciano Nicomede was one of the biggest names in the California marijuana business, taking after his father's criminal legacy-- not that any average pothead would know him as anything more than Little Luciano. The LAPD had been right on his tail for months; Freddy had been looking forward to taking him on for his next big bust.

"You're kidding," he chuckled, a sound that showed a sharp contrast with the guilt he felt when he realized how easy he could use this girl for information.

"Nope. Met him before, too." She licked the edge of the paper and folded it down, twisting the open end of joint shut. "He's pretty cool. I can try and hook you up if you want."

Freddy's very moral fibers were coming apart. Choice A: continue an elaborate lie and extract information through a genuinely kind girl through pure manipulation, or choice B: ignore his job as a lawman and not help shut down a highly illegal practice.

To be fair, he hadn't even been offered the case yet. But then again, she was also a criminal.

"Yeah, that'd be great," he muttered, trying to leave it alone and let things happen naturally.

Sandy glanced up at him as she ran the twisted end of the joint through her teeth. She looked away to avoid any awkward staring, but almost immediately peered back up, her blank expression completely unreadable.

"What?" Freddy raised an eyebrow.

In a fraction of a second, she somehow managed to shove the crumpled brown bag, her rolling papers, and the empty dime bag back under Freddy's seat, knocking the joint off the console in the process, all before running her hand roughly through his hair, grabbing him by the collar of his jacket, and pressing her soft lips against his.

There wasn't much she could've done to prepare him for it. He was immediately intoxicated by the honeyed scent of her perfume and he kissed back hard, letting out a subdued moan into her mouth as he reached up to clutch her small jaw. Her hands smoothed over his chest and gradually began to slip lower down his black t-shirt. Freddy promptly removed his leather jacket and continued kissing her, letting a hand snake down to her waist and draw her closer over the console. She was propping her knees up in her seat in order to crawl over to him when a sharp knock from behind him hauled him back into reality.

When he whipped his head around, he caught the faint gleam of a police badge, the white cruiser visible in the dark from a few yards behind him. The sudden flare of the officer's flashlight blinded him as he reached to roll down the window, exasperated.

There was a brief pause as the policeman leaned down to look into the car. Dale Whitney-- Freddy had been introduced to him some months ago; their interactions barely frequent enough to put them on a first name basis. Despite their lack of closeness, he seemed to know better than to blow Freddy's cover.

"How you folks doing tonight?" he asked, maintaining a collected air.

"Fine," Freddy played along, acting quite bothered by his presence; in reality, he couldn't say he wasn't. Sandy, who had been startled back into her seat by the knock, leaned over to get a good view of the officer.

"Do you need my license?"

"No, that's alright, Miss," Whitney waved his hand is dismissal. "Sorry to interrupt your date, just checkin' in, makin' sure everything's safe." He looked out over the hood of the car as he spoke, his graying hair unbothered by the wind, "we get a lot of drug deals around these parts."

 _Date_. Freddy bit the inside of his cheek, now allowing it to set in why she kissed him. He had to give it to her, it was a smart move. But it didn't feel too uplifting.

"Really?" She raised her brows, her acting skills impeccable. "I never would've guessed. It seems really quiet out here."

Officer Whitney tilted his head and shrugged in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose tonight it is," he propped his hand on his hip reassuringly. "That's why I had to pop in and make certain. You come here on a Saturday, it's a different story."

Sandy slowly nodded in acknowledgment, glancing to Freddy and hoping he'd say something to make the officer go away. He was staring blankly at the floorboards with his brow furrowed slightly, in no way reacting to her subconscious plea. The cicadas crawling in the bushes just ahead of the car hissed loudly, filling the overwhelming silence with eerie rattling.

"Well, I'll let you folks go now," Whitney concluded, slipping his flashlight back into his belt. "You keep yourselves safe."

Freddy finally found his voice, clearing his throat as he muttered, "thanks, have a good one." With that, the officer turned back, walking toward his patrol car as the younger man rolled up the window.

Sandy rolled her eyes and let out a breath she'd been holding. She didn't blink as she watched the police cruiser roll back onto the dirt road and around the corner, the red tail lights disappearing behind the hills.

Freddy broke the period of silence, clearing his throat. "You think we're in the clear now?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, digging around the floorboard trying to find the where the joint went. "Sorry I kissed you." She chuckled as she located the weed and sat back up. Freddy shook his head in dismissal as she began to feel around for her lighter.

"Shit," she hissed. "Still got a light on you? I think mine's between the seats."

He reached in his jacket pocket, flicking it on and holding it out to the open end of the joint. He watched her closely as she smoked, the unmistakable smell filling the car immediately. She took a second hit before handing it over to him.

Freddy knew what to do. He told himself it was all for show but part of him admitted he was totally okay with this. As the pot started to hit him, he leaned back in his seat, smoke clouding up the inside of the car. It was now he noticed the music playing quietly from her stereo.

"You like Tears For Fears?" he asked, the joint crackling as he inhaled.

"Oh yeah. I'm obsessed with this album." She opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but her face ran blank for a minute, like she'd forgotten how to speak. She then turned to him, amused.

"Dude."

Freddy blew a smoke ring, raising an eyebrow. "Hm?"

"What if every time you got high you turned green and started glowing?"

He furrowed his brows and stared at her, puzzled but entertained. "What the fuck?"

Sandy plucked the joint from between his fingers. "I don't even know, I just got that visual." She took another hit, blowing smoke straight in his face.  
"Like, I turned into a glow stick."

The car was beginning to look less like a sauna and more like a bomb went off.

"That'd be cool," he shrugged.

She scoffed and tapped the ash off the end of the joint. "No, it would suck because then everyone would know you're high. Like, a cop would pull you over and immediately be like, 'sir, are you _glowing_ right now? and you couldn't say no because they can see you glowing." She gasped, "what if the higher you got the more you glowed? Stop laughing."

Freddy snorted as she passed him the joint. "You're terrible," he chuckled. "You're a mess inside."

Sandy shook her head confidently. "No. I'm a mess on the _outside_." He tilted his head, squinting, and she continued. "My hair is messy, my room is messy, my life is messy-- 'cause it's good to be consistent and keep that consistent flow throughout your life." She cracked open a can of Mountain Dew and the sound resonated loudly in his head, followed by the tiny fizz of carbonation. She took a sip, not taking much notice in how intensely he was watching her. A flake of ash fell on his jeans.

"So if my flow is chaos, I'm fuckin' ridin' that wave, you know what I mean? But you can't hop on that wave because, like, everyone has their own wave or their own vision for their life, right? And you don't know what I'm envisioning for my life or my future or what wave I'm on because sometimes they're different colors, but for you and your wave-- like, I could try and be exactly like you, but I can't, and that's fine because we're _supposed_ to be different people. But say I did try. That's why people fight right?"

She looked at Freddy expectantly, only to find him staring at the air conditioning as it ever-so-gently tousled his hair. He blinked slowly, still hearing her voice echoing through his head.

"And that's..." she trailed quietly, completely losing her train of thought. Sandy looked up for a second, trying to recount her steps. "...Why wars...I don't even know what I'm saying."

"Yeah, me neither," Freddy panned, his eyes still locked on the air conditioner. "Like," he broke his gaze, smirking as he turned to face her. "I literally have no idea what you just said."

They stared at each other, snickering, before she plucked the roach from his hand.

"Switch me." She offered him the can of soda as she inhaled, hissing at the burn from her throat. He took a swig before slipping it back in the cupholder.

Sandy coughed, eager to get rid of what was burning her fingertips. "It's harsh. Wanna finish it off?"

He took it reluctantly, not really wanting to but knowing he had to look like he did this often. The heat only seemed to get worse after he took the last hit and he coughed, letting out a final stream of milky smoke into the car.

He set the used filter down gently on the console between them, meeting her eyes as he looked up. He could hardly see her through the thick veil of white shrouding her, but he knew she looked beautiful. It didn't help that the only words entering his brain were " _something happens and I'm head over heels_." Or the fact that she didn't look away from him either.

They sat wordlessly until the song began to fade out, prompting Sandy to fill the uncomfortable silence.

"How high are you right now?"

He tilted his head and looked up, putting thought into his answer. "Like, six?"

Sandy tried to stifle her laughter to no avail, holding her face in her hands as she cackled.

Freddy chuckled, confused. "What?"

" _Six_?" She nearly yelled.

"I meant out of ten," he laughed, readjusting himself so he was leaned against the window. She let out a quiet, ' _oh_!' as she rolled her window down just an inch and flicked out the filter.

She sat with her elbows on the console, looking up at him like a child. "Wanna roll another?" she asked, her eyes glassy and pink. He nodded and leaned down to grab her bag from beneath the seat, almost jumping when he sat back up to find himself an inch away from her face.

She reached up and lightly combed his hair with her fingers, tucking it behind his ear. "I messed up your hair. I'm sorry."

Their noses nearly touched and he glanced down at her mouth. He felt electric. It wouldn't hurt to kiss her again, would it?

She yanked the brown bag from his hand and smiled, settling back in her seat. "Let's do this."


	3. You Know What To Do

[ iii . i ]

Freddy woke up thinking the whole thing had been a dream. Having to act the entire night as a completely different person was one thing, but doing it to impress the leader of an organized crime ring and possibly risking his life doing so was another. Add onto that the fact that a painfully beautiful girl had him alone in a secluded area until two-thirty-something in the morning. Oh, and the kissing. He couldn't leave that out.

The longer he laid and thought about it, the more of their conversation he was able to remember; he could hear the sound of her laughter and tried to remember the smell of her perfume-- it was hindered by the reek of weed that seemed to be stuck in his memory.

Perhaps it wasn't just in his mind. He took a handful of the black t-shirt he still had on from the previous night and sniffed, letting out a whistle of surprise at how strong it was. It was at this point he hopped out of bed, peeling his shirt off and throwing it in the pile of dirty laundry collecting at the end of his bed before strolling into the bathroom to take a shower.

 

 [ iii . ii ]

It wasn't that hard to find Holdaway. He seemed to make a routine out of hitting the local Denny's every Sunday and Tuesday night; Freddy didn't even have to look twice to locate his regular seat. He strode to the window booth, a newfound confidence running through his veins.

"Say hello to a motherfucker who's inside," he said, catching the detective's attention. "Cabot's doin' a job and take a big fat guess who he wants on the team."

Jim looked up, unfazed by his presence. "This better not be some kind of Freddy joke, man."

"This ain't no joke. I'm in there, I'm up his ass." Holdaway smiled, offering a handshake before the two hugged and Freddy slid into the booth across from him. The two hadn't seen each other face to face in nearly a month, a long time for someone Freddy considered to be one of his best friends.

"So Nice Guy, he tells me Joe wants to meet me," the smaller man recounted, fiddling with a sugar packet, "says I should just hang in my apartment and wait for a phone call. Well, after three goddamn days by the fuckin' phone, he calls me last night and says Joe's ready; he'll pick me up in fifteen minutes."

"Who all picked you up?"

"Uh, Nice Guy. We get to a bar--"

"What bar?" Jim pressed.

"Smokey Pete's in Gardena. We get there," the smaller man continued. "And I meet Joe and this other guy, Mr. White. It's a phony name--my name's Mr. Orange--"

"Mr. Orange?" Holdaway grinned, stuffing a handful of fries into his mouth.

"Mr. Orange," Freddy repeated. "And this super hot chick, right?"

"Broad got a name?"

Freddy hesitated, briefly shutting down the idea of telling the truth. He'd rather take his chances lying. "Nah, they only called her Miss Red. And she's like," he gestured wildly and exhaled, at a loss for words. "God. I don't think you're envisioning how hot she is."

Jim rolled his eyes. "I got it, Newandyke. Get to the point. You ever see these motherfuckers before?"

"White and Red?"

"Yes, Mr. Orange, White and Red."

"Nah, see White ain't familiar; he ain't one of Cabot's soldiers either, he's gotta be from out of town." Holdaway raised an eyebrow. "Joe knows him real good."

"How can you tell?"

"The way they talk to each other. I can tell they're real buddies."

"Two of you talk?" Jim took a sip of his iced tea.

Freddy gave a confused look. "Who? Me and Joe?"

"Mr. White."

"A little," he tilted his head slightly, recalling the earlier hours of that night.

"Spent all your time hittin' on this Red bitch, huh?" Freddy grinned smugly and shrugged. "What'd you talk to White about?"

"Brewers."

"Milwaukee Brewers?" Holdaway leaned in, getting more invested with every word Freddy gave.

"Yeah, apparently they won the night before, he made a killing off 'em."

"This is sweet, man, cause if this crook say he a Brewers fan, his ass has got to be from Wisconsin." Obviously he and Freddy were on the same page. The smaller man let out a ' _bing_!' and smirked. "And I bet you everything from a diddled-eyed Joe to a damned if I know that in Milwaukee they got a sheet on this Mr. White motherfucker's ass-- so what I want you to do," Jim licked his fingers and wiped his hands on a crumpled napkin, "is go through the mugs of all the guys from Old Milwaukee with a history of armed robbery. Put a name to the face. Nice work, Freddy," he added, offering him a hand to shake.

Freddy took it proudly and smiled. "Thank you, my man."

Jim took another swig of sweet tea, moving his empty plate out of the way. "You get anything on the girl?" Freddy opened his mouth to say something smart and the detective held up a hand. " _Don't_ \--" Freddy burst into laughter, biting his tongue to stop himself from going too far. "Don't say what I think you're gonna say, jackass. I meant information."

"Not much," Freddy chuckled. "Sounds like she's from around here. She's tight with Joe. Nice Guy, too."

"What about White?" Freddy shook his head and Holdaway shrugged. "We'll figure something out. If she's in with 'em, she's probably got a sheet somewhere."

 

[ iii . iii ]

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

"Hang on, you want me to _what_?"

"Hey, don't get pissy on me just yet," Eddie defended, holding his hands up. "Everyone's got a role in this job, this is yours."

"And my role is to be a whore?" Eddie and the senior Cabot simply stared in agreement. Eddie shrugged, causing the girl to scoff in disbelief. "I am not having _sex_ with three men I don't know. I-I don't even know what these motherfuckers look like."

"Nobody said anything about all three just yet," Joe contradicted, his voice barely above a growl. "Just whichever of the three we suspect."

"And what if it's all of them?" Sandy crossed her arms, sitting back in her chair tensely.

"Then tough shit," he retorted, unfazed.

"This is bullshit."

Eddie sighed, growing equally impatient with her. He leaned against his father's desk, facing her. "It's just a precaution."

"What happens if they don't even take me to their house? How am I supposed to--"

"Why wouldn't they take you to their house," he asked flatly.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed at his missing of her point. " _Uh_ , what if they try and fuck me in the car?"

Before Eddie could answer, Joe interrupted, increasingly frustrated. "Sandra, do you want in or not?"

She sighed in defeat and kicked her legs under the chair, looking to the ground. She was silent for a moment before muttering a subdued _yeah_.

"Then do what you're supposed to do."

 

[ iii . iv ]

Freddy's apartment was heavy with the haze of cigarette smoke, the propped open window in the kitchen not providing much help. He'd been searching page after page of mugshots, having no luck finding Mr. White. He took a swig of beer and stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth, ready to give up for the night. About halfway through the obnoxiously large book, he spotted exactly what he needed.

There, in the top right corner, were two tiny grayscale images above the scribbled handwriting, "DIMMICK, LAWRENCE. No. 324096". Freddy didn't look up from the page as he reached for his phone.

Detective Holdaway answered immediately. "What you want?"

Freddy swallowed his food and wiped his hand on his jeans. "Jim?"

"Who the fuck is this?"

"It's Freddy," he scoffed. "Freddy Newandyke."

"You find him yet, Newandyke?"

Freddy picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag before the last of it burned out. "I'm lookin' right at him."

"So what's Mr. White's real name?"

"Dimmick. Lawrence Dimmick." He put out his cigarette, leaning his elbows on the table. "D-i-m-m-i-c-k."

"Good work, Newandyke. We'll see what we can find about Mr. Dimmick's ass."

Freddy mumbled a tired, "alright," and took a sip of beer.

Jim paused. "You find the girl yet?"

The girl. Freddy had spent hours scouring photos of possible female connections to Joe Cabot but found nothing even close. He was somewhat disappointed.

"Nothing," he reported. "Searched this shit front and back, she's not in here."

The detective hummed in contemplation. "Alright, then. You find anything, you know what to do."

As he hung up, it was now, Freddy noted, that he did not, in fact, have any idea what to do.


	4. One of the Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandy gets a taste of who she'll be dealing with on the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not posting ive been in a deep depressive hole i cant seem to get out of. may as well finish this because this movie is one of the only things that makes me happy anymore

[ iv . i ]

**SEPTEMBER 1990**

"I dont know. I feel like this is a very bad idea."

Sandy shivered, her skimpy dress glittering silver every move she made. Vic and Eddie stood before her, their arms crossed. They supposed the best bet at cutting a deal with Luciano was straight at the source.

They'd dragged her along to the nightclub--" _you're twenty one, this is your job now_ "--hoping she'd be able to weasel them into his VIP corner with her looks, seeing as her charm wasn't getting her anywhere. They acquired their target before even setting foot in the club: the youngest of the Nicomede crew who spent most of his time scrubbing toilets--Luciano's bitch. Eddie supposed it'd be easy enough.

"It is," Vic weighed in casually. "But you're getting the brunt of whatever happens, so it's fine."

"Are you serious?" Sandy hissed. Vic shrugged and she rolled her eyes, turning to Eddie. "Is he serious?"

"Come on, Sandy," Eddie persuaded, slipping his hands in his pockets. "Just take one for the team."

She threw her hands up in disbelief. " _Team_. What team?"

Eddie snorted as if it was obvious. " _Our_ team."

"She's not on the team," Vic countered.

"Yeah, she's not."

Sandy scoffed, offended, and put her hands on her hips. "Why am I not on the team?"

"Because you're a girl," Eddie panned.

"What?! That's not fair!"

"No," Vic muttered, placing a cigarette between his teeth. "It's 'cause you're fuckin' stupid."

"I am not stupid," Sandy asserted.

He paused from lighting his cigarette and looked her in the eye. "Spell tequila."

"T-e-q-u," she paused and looked up, retracing her steps, "...i...l-a."

Eddie smirked at her overconfident finish. "Spell two."

"That's easy, t-o."

"Wrong," he retorted, folding his arms over his chest. "T-w-o."

Vic winced condescendingly, lighting his cigarette. Sandy's mouth gaped. "There's like, four different ways to spell two! You did that on purpose!"

"There's only three ways to spell two, sweetheart," Vic informed patronizingly. "So in conclusion, you _are_ stupid."

"That's not fair!" Her voice was barely below a shriek. The two men chuckled.

"Is that how things are with you, Sandy? You just decide what's fair whenever it's convenient for you?" Eddie kept pushing, not caring whether or not she was hitting her limit.

" _WHAT?!_ That doesn't even--" she took a deep breath, knowing her face was probably red with unadulterated rage. "So I'm not on your team, then," she stated calmly, rather than asked.

Both Eddie and Vic unanimously agreed no.

"Well," she forced a laugh and crossed her arms, mirroring the guys. "How do you expect me to take one for the team...if I'm not on the team."

The two went silent for several seconds, looking to the ground contemplatively, then each other. Eddie pointed at her, only speaking to Vic.

"Right, so," both appeared deep in thought, "I think she can _temporarily_ be one of the guys--"

"Temporarily?" Sandy pressed, annoyed.

" _Tsst_! Not talking to you," Eddie scolded and turned back to Vic.

"Wait, wait, wait," she demanded, getting frustrated again. "I'm the one actually doing this. Without me, you don't get shit."

The guys looked between each other again and nodded in agreement.

"Okay, Sandy, I'll cut you a deal," Eddie offered. "You do us this, I'll make you an honorary one of the guys for tonight, huh? How's that?"

She furrowed her brow. "And what _exactly_ do I get out of that?"

"Sandy, you're really pushin' my buttons here."

"I'll do it for fifty bucks," she proposed, shrugging. The men looked at her incredulously, raising their eyebrows.

"Oh, come on," Vic chuckled, taking a drag off his cigarette.

"What's wrong? Two grown men can't afford twenty-five a piece?" Sandy taunted, smirking deviously. "Oh, that's sad. I'd hate to put in a bad word to Luciano's sister."

Vic and Eddie turned to look at the corner of the room, a tanned, dark haired fox sipping a glass of champagne quietly. She moved to set her drink down, revealing an unusually large chest.

Eddie whipped back around to Sandy, her offer ready on the table. "Deal."

 

[ iv . ii ]

**AUGUST 1992**

She slipped in through the warehouse doors silently, closing the door as quietly and inconspicuously as possible. Six men faced away from her, not taking notice as they laughed at something she could only assume came out of Eddie's mouth. Nevertheless, Joe sensed her instantly upon catching the slightest scent of pot and caught her eye.

"You're late," he announced gruffly, prompting each of the seven other heads to turn and stare. She took her hands out of her pockets and pulled an empty chair, its metal legs screeching against the floor.

"Give me a fuckin' break."

"Aww, look who it is!" Eddie taunted. "Have trouble finding us, kitty cat?"

Sandy scowled, narrowing her eyes at him as she plopped down next to Freddy. "Shut up."

Eddie bared his teeth and hissed, making the men chuckle as they joined in her torment.

"Jesus," she rolled her eyes and sighed. "Grow up, Eddie."

"I'll tell you, I'm a hell of a lot more surprised you bothered putting a woman on this job than the fact she's late."

Sandy leaned in at the voice, noting the man wouldn't look her in the eye as she glared at him over Freddy's lap. He was propped on the back of his chair, comfortably ignoring her. His goatee pissed her off.

"Hello?" she asked incredulously, not caring who was listening at this point. " _Hello_. I'm sitting right here."

Finally the man looked at her, his blue eyes squinting briefly in annoyance before blinking in the other direction.

"Actually," she started, now offended and standing up from her seat. The men stared in collective confusion and amusement as she dragged her chair around the room, scraping it to a stop between Freddy and the bug-eyed man.

"Now I'm sitting _here_. Anything else you wanna say?"

His eye twitched. She shrugged patiently.

"Alright, fine," he said pointedly. "You've been here for all of--what, sixty seconds?-- and you are already the most irritating, ball-busting slut bitch I've dealt with in a very long time and that's saying something."

Freddy scowled and waited for Sandy's response. The girl did not react much, she just sat leaned against the back of her chair, smirking. The darker-haired of the two narrowed his eyes.

" _And_ you're ugly."

The men around them waited quietly, gauging whether or not to laugh. A chair creaked. Someone snickered.

Sandy finally opened her mouth, looking more over his head than actually at him.

"I'm gonna pretend like I heard," she paused and blinked slowly. " _Anything_...that you just said." She put her hand on her chest dramatically and gasped. " _Dang!_ Someone call an ambulance, I've been shot!"

Freddy snorted. A low chuckle passed between the men and a young man sitting in the front turned back to smile.

"Tell you what," he laughed. "I kinda like this broad."

"Let me tell you guys something," the goateed man announced, dismissing him. Sandy opened her mouth to say something smart when he flicked something at her. It bounced off her arm and she caught it before it hit the ground. She unfolded the twenty and squinted at him, confused and slightly offended, but didn't respond.

"If there's anything I know about women," he declared, ignoring her again. "If you give them what they want, they usually shut the fuck up."

The men all seemed to shrug in agreement. She swore she heard an "amen to that" come out of Eddie.

Sandy folded the twenty and crossed her legs. "Fair," she conceded. "If I've learned anything about men, it's that no matter what you give them, they never shut the fuck up." She waved the bill in his direction before shoving it in her pocket and winked. "And I'm keeping this, by the way."

Mr. White chuckled. The brown-haired man sitting up front grinned contently and leaned back on his chair. "You know," he started, "I think he's making me look like a pretty good candidate here."

She turned and eyed him suspiciously. "Candidate...for _what_ , exactly?"

He beamed guilelessly in response and shrugged, making her scoff and give him a good look up and down before rolling her eyes.

"What?" he hooted, pretending to be surprised. "Am I not good enough for you, princess?"

"Mediocre," she grimaced, "at best."

"You think I'm mediocre? Sweetheart, I'll _show_ you mediocre."

"You already have."

The other men seemed to find that particularly funny, laughing as she shook her head and sighed. The sound of Joe clearing his throat was very clearly missed by everyone but Freddy, who bit down a chuckle. Among the laughter, Joe coughed again and growled as the men all began to take notice and finally quieted down.

"So you guys like tell jokes and giggle and kid around, eh? Gigglin' like a bunch of young broads sittin' in a school yard. Well, let me tell a joke."

Sandy eyed Freddy out of the corner of her vision, who sat relaxed as ever and upon noticing her, blew a smoke ring in her direction. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Joe.

"Five guys sittin' in a bullpen, San Quentin. Wonderin' how the fuck they got there. 'What'd we do wrong, what shoulda we done, it's your fault, his fault'--all that bullshit. Finally somebody says, 'wait a minute. While we were planning this caper, all we did was sit around tellin' fuckin' jokes.'"

She looked back and forth between Joe and the men, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Got the message?"

[ iv . iii ]

The men folded up and dragged their chairs out of the room, chatting amongst themselves while they readied to leave. Freddy slipped on his sunglasses as he stood by the door, watching Sandy exchange her typical banter with the junior Cabot. She glanced up at him and smiled, grabbing her things as she headed towards the exit.

"Hey, uh--Red." Sandy turned, agitated at the voice she now recognized as belonging to Mr. Pink. She eyed him wearily, not fully maneuvering to face him.

"Look," he asserted, his feet shuffling slightly as he motioned for her to wait. "I think we might've got off on the wrong foot."

"Uh, yeah. We did." Sandy mimicked the same shuffle in her urgency to leave. She shoved her hands in her pockets awkwardly. They shared a brief uncomfortable silence as Pink stuttered.

"I don't--I don't think you're that ugly, by the way."

"I know," she sighed, turning towards the door impatiently. Freddy still leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. Her small heels clicked softly as she walked towards him with purpose.

"Waiting for someone?" she inquired. Freddy shrugged nonchalantly, tilting his head. He was starting to like this character he'd invented for himself. Cool Guy Freddy--Mr. Orange, he supposed.

Sandy's car keys jingled as she pulled them from her pocket and held them out to him. "Wanna go for a ride?"

He smirked and followed her out the door.


	5. Hotbox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddy and Sandy get to know each other a little better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year my friends! hopefully i can get myself back on updating once a week :E anyways i am both drunk and high so please enjoy what i have written

[ v . i ]

The windows of Sandy's Buick were rolled down, letting the lingering smell of In-N-Out drift away from the leather seats. As the sun set behind the shadowed palm trees, she gave a pointless albeit quick glance around the car before shooting Freddy a devious smile. She pulled a carton of Marlboros from her pocket, flicking it open and holding it out to him. He looked down and stared at the one filter that was not quite like the others.

"I gotta level up," she said to herself, tapping the steering wheel rhythmically.

"You sure we're not gonna get caught like this?" His fingers strayed over it hesitantly.

"Positive," she swore, slowing to turn a narrow corner. "I do it all the time, nobody really notices. If a cop drives by, I just roll my window up and hope they think it's a cigarette."

Freddy chuckled and pulled the end of the joint out, folding the top of the carton over. "Do you always keep one in here?"

"Sometimes," Sandy shrugged and slipped the cigarettes back in her pocket as he held the filter in his teeth. "You ever smoked Thai before?"

"Can't say I have."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, buddy. You're about to go to Paris."

"What?" Freddy squinted as she held out her lighter, letting him guard it against the wind with his hand.

"Have you ever been to Paris?" He shook his head as she continued regardless. "Have you ever been to _fucking Paris_ , Freddy? Have you ever been to the _fucking moon_?! I have. This is the _shit_ , dude."

Freddy laughed, blowing out half his first hit before taking another.

"Is this the side of town you live on?" he asked, relaxing in his seat and propping his arm on the open window.

"Used to."

"You live in the city now?"

"Yeah." She took the spliff between her fingers as smoke billowed from Freddy's mouth. "We actually drove by my old high school a while back."

"Really?" The car slowed to a stop, red light flooding the windshield.

"Yeah. You know there are kids getting pregnant at, like, fifteen now?"

"It's always been that way," Freddy remarked, receiving an eye roll in response.

"I know, but it's _bad_ now, dude." She sucked in another breath of smoke and passed him the joint. "It's crazy to me. You know what I was doing at fifteen?"

"What?"

"Working at fucking Claire's Accessories." He chuckled as a black truck pulled up next to them at the intersection, blaring music behind the closed windows. "Not getting plowed by the gimp captain of the football team."

The light flashed green and Sandy's boot pulled away from the brake.

"Watch it," Freddy defended, tapping the ash off the end of the reefer and putting it back between his teeth. "I was captain of my football team."

Sandy puffed out a short cackle. "Bull _shit_."

He held his hand over his chest in feigned offense. "What are you insinuating, Sandra? That someone as jacked as me couldn't easily make captain?"

This made her giggle as she switched lanes, passing a slow-moving sedan that idled in the middle of the road. "Shut the fuck up. You were a baseball kid."

"How'd you know that?" He tilted his head at her, slightly impressed before he gestured at the upcoming stoplight. "Turn left up here."

"I dunno, you just look like one."

"I look like a baseball kid," he repeated, nodding as he tried to understand.

"No," she said flatly. "You look like a baseball."

Freddy chuckled and blew a thick line of smoke at her face in retaliation, prompting her to snatch the joint from his hand. She turned the corner swiftly, not bothering to look across the intersection first.

"Seriously though, dude. God just, like, came down from wherever the fuck he's hiding and whispered it to me."

This earned her a comical squint from Freddy as she took a brief hit.

"Do you know God?" she asked earnestly. "You should talk to him, he's a good friend of mine." She slowed as the car approached a neighborhood stop sign.

"Did God make you work at Claire's when you were fifteen?"

Sandy shrugged dramatically. "I don't know, let's ask him." She knocked on the frame of the driver's side window and looked up; his eyes soon followed hers.

"God?" Freddy called. "You there?"

They both waited in silence momentarily with no answer. "Shit!" she laughed, throwing her hands up in disappointment, "no one's home!"

She pointed to the sky--or the roof of the car, rather--as Freddy cackled. "Catch you later, big man," she concluded to herself, smiling contently before ashing the joint and handing it over the console.

It was now that she became aware of the ring on his finger, the metallic glint of it flashing under the street lights.

"Ah. See you're a married man." She eased on the gas again, driving her front tire through a puddle.

"Oh, this thing?" Freddy paused to take a hit and fiddled with the band on his finger. "Nah, it was my grandpa's. It's from Belgium."

She raised an eyebrow in suspicion as he exhaled. "Really?"

"I'm serious. This thing's been through the second world war. Hey," he nodded towards the windshield and she looked up from his hand. "Eyes on the road."

Sandy smirked and took the last of the spliff from between his fingers as she turned to face forward. She sucked in hard and started to roll down the window, the roach crackling as she did. Freddy stared as she flicked the empty filter out the window and milky smoke rolled endlessly from her mouth.

"Jesus Christ," he chuckled and rolled his own window down, the clouds of smoke from inside the car dispersing into the night air. "You have lungs of fucking steel."

Sandy gave a short cough and smiled. "That's funny, Eddie calls me Iron Lung."

"Iron Lung?" She gave a nod as he continued staring at her. "And what do you call him?"

"Faggot."

Freddy snickered and shook his head before gesturing to the road. "It's on the right."

She slowed at the corner, glancing over at him as she turned. Her hair fell from its place at her shoulder and she moved to tuck it behind her ear, the movement catching Freddy's attention. She looked away before their eyes could meet.

"How old are you again?" Sandy asked casually, trying to steer the small talk back on track.

"Thirty."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," he chuckled, rolling the window up as his apartment came into view. "Why?"

"Would've guessed younger."

"You calling me old?" Sandy gave him an annoyed look and rolled her eyes. "What about you, then?"

"Turned twenty-three last week—this it up here?"

Freddy nodded. "I would've guessed older."

Her foot left the gas as she began to pull the car closer to the curb. The tires squeaked as the Buick eased to a stop at the corner of the street. She shifted into park and turned to him excitedly.

"Dude. You know I was born on the day Sharon Tate died?"

"Really?" He smirked skeptically while his hand moved to rest on the console.

"Yeah, the ninth of August, 1969," she nodded in confirmation and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do you think I'm Sharon Tate reincarnated?"

Freddy stared for a second or two before his eyes widened. "Hey, wasn't she pregnant when she died?"

"Holy shit—I'm the baby," Sandy gasped. He mirrored her surprise with a whispered "what the fuck", which she echoed once more after him. He pressed his fingers against his temple and laughed before the light touch of her hand on his arm caught his attention.

"Please don't tell anybody, this is too much pressure." She smiled wide, giggling as she held her hand up to his face. "Pinky promise you won't tell anyone. Fuck."

She tore her hand away and folded it in her lap, her face still remaining inches from his own. "Not like you can keep a secret anyways."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Freddy smirked and watched her eyes flicker to his.

"Dude, you told me your name from day one."

"You told me yours!"

She scoffed. "Whatever." Sandy's eyes wandered over the windshield and across the street to his apartment building. Through the dim street lamps she could see windows lit stories above them, glowing yellow and white against the bricks.

"Wait, when did we get here?"

Freddy furrowed an eyebrow and looked over. "What, my apartment? Like a minute ago."

Sandy blinked twice, staring up in deep thought. "I barely remember driving here, dude." She snickered, "have I said or done anything I should regret?"

"Not yet, but I mean," he remarked suggestively. "If you want to right now, we're already at my place so..."

When she turned her head to him, her eyes flickered in genuine surprise until she noticed his amused smirk. She let out an almost relieved giggle and leaned in closer to him, her hair dangling over the gear shift.

"Are you coming onto me right now?" She whispered it as if they weren't alone.

"Wouldn't be the first today," he shrugged, making Sandy chuckle nervously.

"What do you think of the guys?" Freddy was not at all surprised by her response of an exaggerated eye roll. "Pink givin' you a hard time, huh?

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling the arm of her baggy jacket up as it started to slip off her shoulder. "I hate being the only girl."

"He was looking at you the whole time after that."

"I know. I feel like everyone's just made it their personal goal to get in my pants before this thing ends, it's stupid." Freddy nodded while he flicked the black dice hanging from her rearview, watching them as they swayed under the dim lights. "I mean, Ed's been trying for like, three years now. He still doesn't understand it's not happening."

He turned to look at her suddenly, lowering his hand to his lap. "Wait, you and Nice Guy aren't a thing?" He hoped his voice did not portray the same mild enthusiasm that he felt.

"Oh, hell no," she said adamantly, shaking her head at the thought.

"You don't like him?" Freddy tried to hold back his smirk.

"Not like that." She ran her fingers through the ends of her hair before laying it over her shoulder. "He wants to, but I know if we did, we'd realize we can't fucking stand each other after two weeks."

Freddy chuckled in understanding. He leaned the tiniest amount closer to her, looking into her half-shut eyes. The harsh flickering light hovering over the car door didn't do them any harm as they still sparkled flecks amber and gold beneath her eyelashes.

"So you're not into any of them?" He tried not to give himself away with the question, leaning back casually against the leather seat. She did the same, her eyes briefly flickering to his lips before she smiled.

"I didn't say that."

Freddy hesitated, only scanning over her face momentarily before his eyes locked hers. He looked at her admiringly, losing the rest of her features as her eyes became the center of his focus. They remained like that for only a second before Sandy tilted her head.

"What?"

Without answering, his fingers combed through her hair as he swooped in and pressed his lips against hers. He pulled away quickly, unsure she would reciprocate. She looked at him through her fluttering lashes, her pupils dilating and the soft bating of her breath tickled his lips. Without breaking her gaze, she leaned into him, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck as she kissed him hard. Freddy slipped his tongue into her open mouth almost immediately while her hand slid down to the center of his chest. His own snaked up to cradle her face.

Taking a break from the honeyed taste of her lips, he grazed his nose over her jawline and spoke between kisses, "You have...no idea...how much I think about you." He pulled away, his hand still touching her cheek. Freddy dropped the low, raspy voice he'd been panting and looked at her considerately. "I'm not being too forward, am I?"

Sandy's grip tightened on his shirt as she bit her lip and giggled.


	6. This Is Porn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That’s it. It’s just porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bahahshshgsjsk sorry ive been updating this on wattpad and i forgot to post here lmfao.

[ vi . i ]

 

She sat on top of him, their hips grazing against one another as she kept him trapped on his bed beneath her. Any doubts he had about his own integrity as a member of law enforcement went out the window, his drug-powered lust clouding any form of judgement that held him back before.

 

His tongue never left her mouth and she sighed, feeling his hands creep up from the sides of her thighs. Freddy pushed the skirt of her dress up and grabbed her ass, making her squeal in surprise. Giggling, she leaned back just enough to reach down and scrape her nail over the metal zipper of his jeans. He let a small groan escape his lips before he furrowed his eyebrows and sat up. Sandy still clung to his shirt, her nose an inch away from his.

 

"Freddy," she breathed, trying in vain to kiss him again as he pulled away. Her voice played over and over in his head, becoming the only sound he could hear.

 

"Stop." He said the word with little conviction, letting it vaporize into the air as if it hadn't even been said. She stared at him needily, her pupils blown wide, and he spoke up a bit louder. "You're high."

 

"I want to," she purred and ghosted her lips against his teasingly, hanging off him like a dead weight.

 

"You're high," he repeated, keeping himself upright on the pillows behind him.

 

"So are you. Come on," the girl tilted her head and begged him, drunk on lust. "Freddy, please."

 

Freddy's heart began to pound harder, not only in anticipation, but in anxiety. The excitement and arousal was evident, knowing they were well passed the point of "something has to happen now". But the thought had only now crossed his mind that there was a palpable danger involved in hooking up with a suspect.

 

He could probably lose his job if anyone found out. He had no idea why that turned him on so much.

 

He caved easily, making a quick glance at her lips before pulling her in for another slow kiss as he slipped her windbreaker down her shoulders. She assisted him by tearing it off and chucking it over the edge of the bed, leaving her thin arms bare and cold. Before she could grab back onto the lapels of his jacket, he snaked out of it, allowing her to yank his white shirt over his head eagerly. Freddy's hands grazed over her back gently as she stroked her fingers over the buckle of his belt, pulling hard at the leather to slide it from the loops. He leaned back onto his elbows and watched as she maneuvered down the bed, unzipping his pants urgently and pulling them down halfway. His fingers met hers at the band of his boxers, hips lifting as he helped her drag them off.

 

He could blame it later on the THC in his system, but his uneasiness aroused him even more as Sandy's hand wrapped around his shaft and squeezed it gently, making him hum in satisfaction. Leaning forward, she eased the tip of his cock into her mouth and ran her tongue over the slit. Freddy let out a sharp breath as everything else in the room seemed to disappear and his brain became hyper-focused on the warm wetness of her mouth. She opened her mouth, slapping his dick against her tongue before dipping her head in and sucking harder, forcing his head to fall back in pleasure. He panted and combed a hand through her hair, drawing a moan from the back of her throat. The vibration made Freddy hiss and he lifted his hips to guide his cock deeper in her mouth.

 

His arms quivered as he struggled to keep himself up at the gentle touch of her tongue; he pulled her off by her hair, her reddened lips making a soft pop as they left the head. She sighed and looked up at him wantonly, a string of spit dribbling from her mouth to the tip of his dick. He pushed her to a sitting position and grasped the hem of her black dress, which was now bundled up to expose her rear. As he drew it over her head and let it pool with the rest of their clothes on the floor, she maneuvered off his lap and plopped her back down onto the mattress, grabbing him by the back of the neck.

 

He rolled over, kicked his pants off from their place at his knees, and crawled on top of her, his long fingers dancing across the thin band of her panties as they locked eyes. Sandy's lashes fluttered before she leaned up and kissed him again, harder and more desperate this time. Freddy drew her underwear down her thighs as she did, the arch of her hips making him groan. She pulled away and laid her head back against the pillows. The mattress dipped where he kneeled between her legs and she hummed at the warmth of his skin. With his cock in his hand, he pressed the head inside her tenderly and cooed.

 

"God, you're so fucking wet."

 

She had no time to respond before he sank into her, drawing a heated moan from the back of her throat. Freddy held his breath momentarily while he pulled out, his light hair flopped over his eye. He slid into her quicker this time, making her whimper as he began a steady pace.

 

Sandy whined and moved to grip his forearms. The hot friction caused a shudder to run up her spine as he bit his lip and increased his speed. Every lewd noise she made reverberated in his head, his focus spinning and circling in around her body. Her breathing became strained and she threw her head back, mewling. Freddy hissed at the feeling of her squirming under his arms and tensing around him. Before she could let out her first gasp of ecstasy, he gave one hard thrust and laid into her with all his weight, ceasing as she cried out.

 

"Why did you stop?" she rasped, looking up at him desperately. Freddy smirked at the betrayal on her face until she pushed on his shoulders hard enough to flip him onto his back.

 

She straddled his lap, wrapping one hand around his length while the other pressed against his sternum. She purred at the flush of red developing in his cock, stroking it with her thumb before guiding it into her and seating herself on top of him. A sharp breath fell from her mouth as Freddy's hands pulled her hips down harder. Sandy shivered, grasping the metal frame above his head and hearing it tick against the wall as she picked up the pace. Her long hair cascaded from off her shoulders when she looked down at him, his mouth slightly open to let out a few faint moans.

 

She let go of the bed frame, leaning back and propping herself up on his legs. She could feel his muscles tense when she started to ride him again. The springs beneath them squeaked, audible over their raspy breaths and whimpers. The obscene sounds spilling from her lips grew louder and her grip on his thighs tightened shakily.

 

"Oh, fuck." Sandy's head fell back as she gasped and her ribcage jerked with her stuttering breath. The pressure in Freddy's head mounted, his body turning hot and pulsating with every slam of her hips. He watched as the ecstasy rolled from her tanned legs up to her throat where she cried out his name. Biting back a moan, he picked his head up to see his cock disappearing inside her.

 

"Ah," he hissed, gripping her hips so hard his knuckles went white. "God. Shit."

 

Freddy pulled her off him, his abs tensing as he crawled closer and spilled himself onto her stomach. Her chest heaved as she bit back a whine. He panted and collapsed down onto the mattress, watching Sandy wordlessly wipe the fluids from her skin and bring her fingers to her lips, licking them clean.

 

They lay next to each other in peaceful silence, their worn out breathing and the whir of the ceiling fan resounding in place of conversation. Freddy turned to the girl, watching her face for any hint of disappointment or regret. She simply stared off into space contently, dazed and high yet completely aware he was looking at her. Turning her head to face him, she sighed and reached over, tucking his hair out of his face. A smile crept onto his face and he sat up, pulling out the heavy drawer next to his bed. He took out a neatly folded t-shirt and tossed it at her gently, prompting her to throw her legs over the edge of the mattress and sit next to him.

 

"In case...you wanted to," he paused and shrugged as she covered her bare chest with the shirt. "Take a shower..."

 

"Yeah, thanks," she bit her lip and stood up, keeping her body out of view as she walked to the bathroom. He grabbed a shirt for himself and shook it loose before throwing it on.

 

"Don't be so shy now," Freddy half-joked and scanned over her legs. She giggled and the bathroom door clicked shut as he stood to tug on a pair of boxers.

 

He stood still for several seconds, the time feeling extended to half an hour as his high still racked his brain. At the faint sound of a creak and the sputtering of the shower head, he jumped into action, turning on the TV and mindlessly throwing the remote behind him before he sped out of the bedroom.


	7. Say It Back

     [ vii . i ]

 

Sandy emerged quietly from the bathroom, her hair soaking Freddy's t-shirt as it hung from her shoulders. Steam dissipated from the bathroom before she shut off the light and closed the door, the faint smell of shampoo filling the room. Freddy sat on the bed half dressed with his legs crossed, blinking sleepily with the reflection of a Full House rerun in his eyes. He glanced over at Sandy as she crawled onto the bed next to him.

 

She leaned her head on his shoulder and looked up at him pensively, the residue of her mascara slightly faded under her eyes. "You look nervous."

 

"You look beautiful."

 

"Nice deflection, loser," she smirked, shooting a quick glance at the TV. "You have a panic attack?"

 

Freddy shrugged and looked forward.

 

"You feel any better now?"

 

"Yeah," he supposed, avoiding direct eye contact with the girl as he changed the channel and slid the remote on his nightstand.

 

Sandy still stared at him, not caring much for the TV screen. "What's your middle name?" She said it as if it had any correlation with their previous conversation.

 

"My middle name?" he repeated, finally looking down at her.

 

"Yeah," she confirmed, "it's like the name between your first and last. That's why they call it the middle name."

 

Freddy chuckled and watched the smile on her face grow. "Why?"

 

"I dunno," she shrugged. "I just have a feeling it's Alan. Fredrick Alan."

 

"It's Alexander."

 

She furrowed her brows and looked over him for several seconds to process it before rejecting it and sighing. "Nah, it's Alan. Your name is Fredrick Alan."

 

He laughed, the movement of his chest causing her hand to fall to his side. Sandy tucked a lose strand of hair behind her ear, still damp from the shower.

 

"What's yours?" Freddy maneuvered the arm pressed against her to wrap around her shoulders.

 

"Margot," she answered, scooting further into his side and placing her hand back on his ribs. He twitched at the coolness of her fingers. "My mom used to call me Go-Go when i was little."

 

"Go-Go...I like that," he hummed. "I'm gonna use that."

 

"Dude, don't. It's weird."

 

"Well, you're calling me Sir Fredrick fuckin' Alan, so..."

 

They looked at each other and giggled. Freddy reached up, twisting a messy strand of her hair around his finger. Their eyes locked when she gazed up to find him still staring.

 

"What?"

 

"Something about you," he sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear and grazing his fingertips gently over her neck. "You're so beautiful."

 

"You're still high," she chuckled. "Good to know."

 

"It's wearing off. My statement still stands."

 

A hint of pink flushed over her tanned cheeks. "Stop," she pulled back shyly, hoping her hair would fall back in her face. "You're sweet."

 

Sandy rested her head on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat making her drowsy. Back and forth, she ran her nail gently over his stomach until even that took too much energy. Freddy struggled to keep his eyes open, knowing it was safer if she fell asleep first. A few minutes of comfortable silence passed when the steadying of her light breaths fluttering over his skin put him at enough ease to drift off.

 

 

 

[ vii . ii ]

 

**JULY 1988**

 

Sandy sat outstretched on the couch, her legs crossed over the seat next to her, skin sticking slightly to the leather. The air was heavy with the stench of pot.

 

"Dude, that doesn't count for shit. You think I wouldn't know?"

 

Mickey grabbed the bong from her hands as he walked past her. She moved her feet to the middle spot on the couch and let him sit, propping his elbow on the arm of the couch to spark his lighter.

 

"Whatever," he mumbled dismissively and inhaled, the muffled bubbling causing her to look over.

 

He put the bong down on the rickety coffee table, the brown surface riddled with water damage and grease stains. Mick stared back at her almost longingly, making her shift awkwardly. She jerked back at the touch of his rough palm on her bare calf.

 

"The fuck are you doing," she half-joked, chuckling in discomfort. Though she did find the boy a bit attractive, she hadn't set out with the intention of getting touchy-feely with him.

 

His hand now rested on the top of her sneaker, his fingertips easing up to her ankle. "Don't be stupid," he scoffed. "I thought we were on the same page here."

 

"Uh, no." Sandy swung her legs off the edge of the couch and crossed them in front of her affirmatively.

 

Mick looked straight ahead and sighed angrily. "Christ, you're dumb. You don't have any cash, then?"

 

She bit the inside of her cheek with a shrug and a quiet "no".

 

"Sandy." He shifted towards her and she watched him from the corner of her eye. "You can't just...expect free pot whenever you please. I'm gettin' real fed up with you doing this shit."

 

"I'm sorry," she murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll pay you back tomorrow."

 

"No, Sandy—you said that last time. And you didn't." She chewed at her lip nervously. Her palms began to grow clammy. "Well?"

 

"Mickey, I—"

 

He rolled his eyes, shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out a pistol, pointing the barrel to her chest. She sucked in a panicked breath and froze, unable to move her eyes away from the gun.

 

"I really didn't think I'd have to do this but you're not giving me much of a choice here." He gestured to her with it as he spoke, "you owe me whether you like it or not, Sandy, so get moving."

 

"Okay, okay," she uncrossed her legs and sat straight, steadying her breathing. "I will."

 

"That's better."

 

Sandy unzipped her jacket, swallowing nervously as she kept her eye on the pistol. She glanced up to his face. "Will you please just put the gun down?" Mick chewed his lip in thought. His eye twitched. "Please?"

 

He sighed in annoyance and leaned over, sliding his gun across the coffee table far enough to satisfy her before glancing over her chest. "Continue."

 

She carefully peeled the jacket from her arms, dropping it behind her, and in one fluid motion swung them out from her back, revolver in hand.

 

"Who's the stupid one now?"

 

Mick shot a panicked glance at his own gun. It sat on the table barely out of his reach and he nearly choked at the sound of the piece cocking.

 

"You make one move for that thing and I will shoot both your eyes out, you hear me?"

 

Gritting his teeth, he stilled and glared at her. "I hear you."

 

Sandy stood cautiously, plucking her jacket from off the ground where it'd fallen. She glanced to her side in thought, then back to Mickey.

 

"You know what?" she announced angrily. "Gimme the weed."

 

"What?"

 

"You heard me." Gripping the gun, she shrugged and gestured towards the brown bag on the table. "The weed. You know—the ganja. The devil's lettuce. Give it to me."

 

Mickey reached over the tabletop begrudgingly; as his left hand grazed over the bag, his right took a risk and went in for his gun. His fingertips didn't have time to touch the metal before Sandy fired a deafening warning shot at the wooden table. Sawdust and splinters exploded from the blast and his hand retreated instinctively.

 

" _Fucker_! What'd I say about the goddamn gun?" Taking a step closer, she stiffened her arm in his direction with her finger still on the trigger. "Give me the weed."

 

Mickey didn't look at her as he flung the paper bag aggressively. She barely caught it with her free hand, stumbling so as not to drop it. Holding it tight around the neck, she took a couple of slow, cautious steps backwards towards the door. Her gun remained pointing in his direction as she continued her expedition of hostile paces into the doorway.

 

He glared up at her and she scoffed, kicking open the corner of the door and holding it ajar with her back as she stood in the way. "Teach you to fuck with me."


End file.
